Sins of a Siren (21 page)

I can follow your ass to the moon with this, Piper
. He looked around, waited for an Asian family of five to enter the elevator, then closed the trunk and walked over to Piper's rental car. He took a quick look around as he removed a small leather case, containing lock-picking tools, from the side pocket of his loose-fitting jeans.
Good, this van is just enough cover to avoid the security cameras from seeing me.
In less than two minutes, he picked the trunk lock, peeled back a corner of the quarter panel insulation, placed the tracking device snuggly inside and closed the trunk. He grinned as he got back in his car and started the engine.
If shit keeps going this smooth, I'll have time to find Trenda, silence her and spend a little time doing some real vacationing.

He drove around the corner and booked a room at the low-budget Cypress Inn. He tossed his bags onto the eons-old, pale-green bedspread and grimaced. “I swear if I catch a fucking disease from
this nasty-ass room, I'm gonna put a bullet into that shit-breathed check-in clerk.” He walked over to his second-story window, pushed aside the dingy, piss-colored curtains, looked out at the clear, warm night and studied his view of the pool area of the five-star Hyatt Hotel.

The streets crawled with activity as clubgoers, hustlers, taxicabs, police cars, players, and other people of the night traveled on Broadway. He watched the hotel a little longer, then closed the drapes, walked over to the bed, opened his bag and removed the pistol and rubber bands. “Let me get you ready for action.” After opening the packet of rubber bands, he wrapped nearly all of them around the grip.

Since the previous owner of the pistol had filed off the serial number, and the rubber bands would make pulling fingerprints off the grip impossible, the gun was the perfect, untraceable murder weapon. After putting the gun in his bag, he went into his briefcase and removed a top-of-the-line BlackBerry. He logged into the tracking software he'd used in a stakeout a few months back and was pleased to see the small, blinking red triangle indicating Piper's car. He went back to his briefcase, removed the mugshot picture of Trenda from the manila envelope, and grimaced. “Game on, bitch…”

“S
hit!” Trenda said as she examined the run in her one and only pair of stockings. “And it's ten minutes to ten; I don't have enough time to go buy a new pair before Walter gets here.” She opened the long split up the side of her designer, ankle-length, body-hugging, backless, halter-topped, black evening gown she'd found at the Goodwill store down the street from the hotel a few days ago, and examined her smooth bare leg. A confident smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Fuck the stockings; I'm sure Walter will appreciate not having to fight with taking them off.”

She was extra horny. Stressful situations usually brought the freak out in her. Sex served as a form of escapism for her. She watched her braless nipples grow as she admired herself in the bathroom mirror. The thought of tasting Walter's log again made her slit sweat. “Girl, you a straight freak.” As she applied a coat of brick-colored lipstick, she heard a knock at the door. She checked her watch, ten o'clock on the nose.
He is the most punctual man I have ever met.
She patted down her growing afro and walked barefoot to the door. “Who is it?”

“Your chauffeur.”

She opened the door and enjoyed the way his eyes bulged as they traveled over her. “You look
fantastic
!”

“Thank you.” She stepped to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He accepted her tongue for a short but intense kiss. She backed off and wiped her lipstick off his lips. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

He adjusted his bright red tie, composed himself and followed her inside. His eyes locked on her rolling buttocks. “That's the best birthday greeting I have gotten all day.”

She went into the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick. “It had better be.” She picked up her tube of lipstick, turned off the light, walked back into the sitting area, sat next to Walter on the sofa and crossed her legs. “So, where are we eating?”

He followed her bare thigh all the way to her brick-red painted toenails. “Since it's kind of late, I figured we could go to Kimiko's in Alameda and have some sushi.”

She picked a piece of lint off the lapel of his black Italian suit jacket. “That sounds real good, but I don't like raw fish.”

He chuckled, took her hand and kissed it. “They also have tempura.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Tempura? What's that?”

“It's batter-dipped shrimp, prawns, vegetables or fish that's fried.”

“That's more like it!” She pulled her black pumps from under the coffee table and slipped them on her feet. “Let's get goin'.”

She enjoyed the view of the city and star-filled sky while riding with the top down in Walter's BMW. He glanced at her. “Is that too much air on you?”

She let her arm dangle out the window. “Not at all.” She wiped an imaginary lock of hair out of her face. “I love to feel my hair blowin' in the wind.”

He laughed. “I see. I wouldn't want it to get caught in any low-hanging branches.”

“Funny.” She smiled and thought back to when she used to wear her hair well past her shoulders. That and the combination of her eyes and extraordinary figure sometimes brought her
too
much attention. There were times she would rather starve than go get something to eat just to avoid being harassed by lusty men and
women. Five years ago, after being approached by five different men in ten minutes while trying to get to a restroom in the mall, she went home and cut it all off.

At half past eleven, a waitress politely informed Walter and Trenda that they would be closing in thirty minutes. Walter put down the last piece of California Roll and patted his belly. “I think I overdid it. I can't eat another bite.”

Trenda put her glass of sake up to her lips and looked at him over the rim. “Are you sure about that?”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

She put her glass down, looked him in the eyes, licked her lips and asked again. “Are you
sure
you can't eat anything else?”

He grinned and placed his hand on her bare thigh. “I think I can make room for a little dessert.”

She placed her hand on his and guided him to the hot, bald, leaking oasis between her panty-free legs. “I have a lot of dessert for you.”

He let his fingertip trace the moist slit. “I think it's time to get out of here.”

On the way back to the hotel, Trenda reached between his legs and grasped Walter's swollen mass. The feel of its firmness under the fabric of his slacks turned up her burners. She nuzzled his neck and licked the inside of his ear, then whispered, “I am gonna fuck you crazy.”

The car ran over several lane marker bumps as Walter swerved from his sexy distraction. “Keep that up and we won't make it back to the room.”

Trenda continued to rub his crotch. It had been a while since she actually wanted to have her pussy dug out by a real dick. Usually a tongue or dildo would suffice, but with all the tension she had been suffering, she yearned for release. Just as she started
unzipping his pants, a cell phone beeped. She looked up. “Is that your phone or mine?”

Walter did his best to speak coherently. “Has to be yours; I turned mine off as soon as I picked you up.”

Trenda picked her purse off the floor, got her phone and saw she had a text message from Lollie.
“Hey, girl! Wassup? What you into tonight?”

She leaned back in her seat, released her grip on Walter's junk and typed a reply.
“Hey, baby girl! I'm out helpin' Walter celebrate his birthday. What you into?”

“Shit…bored as hell. I just got back from Fats. They had to close early because a few knuckleheads started fightin'. But I can catch you later. I don't wanna mess up you guys' groove.”

Trenda glanced at Walter as he impatiently waited for a red light. A wicked smile filled her face. She sent another text.
“Come by my room in twenty minutes.”

“What? You want me to come by tonight? Don't you two have some celebrating to do?”

Trenda turned slightly away from Walter to keep him from reading her conversation.
“Yeah…come by and have a drink with us. He's cool with it.”

“Okay…if you are sure I won't be in the way. I ain't tryin' to be a third wheel.”

“Cool! Bye.”
She shut off her phone, dropped it into her purse and resumed caressing Walter's chunk. “How you feelin', baby?”

He ran a yellow light, six blocks from the Hotel Oakland. “I am gonna go bananas with you teasing me. I can't tell you how many laws I have broken trying to hurry and get to my dessert.”

She smiled, let him go and gathered herself as he pulled into the parking garage.
If all goes well, you are gonna have the mother of all birthday gifts…

In the elevator to her room, Walter ran his hand through the split in her skirt and massaged her wet clit. Trenda nutted on his finger twice before the elevator stopped at the eighth floor. They kissed, groped and stumbled all the way to her room. After she fumbled with getting the cardkey to work, he smiled and took it from her. “You are taking
way
too long.”

Trenda checked her watch.
I gotta stall him for another ten minutes
. She waited for him to open the door and took her time walking in. She watched him take off his jacket, undo his tie and toss them onto the sofa. Before he could take off his shirt, she walked over and grabbed his hand. “C'mon, let's have a drink first.”

He grabbed a handful of the ass under her tight dress. “I don't need a drink.” He spun her around and pulled her close. “All I need right now is a double shot of you.”

The feel of his lump pressed against her almost made her forget her plans. She resisted the urge to drop to her knees and suck the color off his prick. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the wet bar. “We have to have a birthday toast. What do you want to drink, birthday boy?”

He stood behind her as she bent over and removed two shot glasses from the cabinet under the small sink on the wet bar. “Do you have any of that Gran Patron left?”

She bent back over and felt him grind on her ass. His firmness made her clit tremble. She found the half bottle of tequila and placed it on the counter next to the glasses. “It's your lucky day.”

He kissed the side of her neck. “I see.” He opened the bottle and poured both of them a healthy shot of tequila. He eased back just enough for her to turn around facing him. He gave her a glass and held his out to her. “Happy birthday to me.”

She pressed her breasts against him, smiled, and held her glass up. “Happy birth—” They both heard a knock at the door and froze.

He looked from the door into her eyes. “Are you expecting company?”

She grinned and slipped out of his arms. “Kinda.” She ignored the puzzled look on his face, then went to the door and looked through the peephole.
Right on time, Lollie.
She opened the door and admired how good Lollie looked in her pink, mid-thigh-length skirt and black leather jacket. She stepped back, laughed and let her in. “I just know you didn't come over here in that bad-ass skirt wearing
house shoes
!”

Lollie, oblivious to the man standing by the wet bar, took off her jacket and stepped out of her fluffy, pink slippers. “Hell yeah! I wasn't about to wear my pumps just to come see y—” She saw Walter out the corner of her eye and paused. “Uhhh, hi, Walter, long time, no see.” She smiled and pushed her hair out of her face. “Happy birthday!”

He beamed as his eyes involuntarily found her impressive breasts. “Thanks. I'm glad we could meet under more comfortable circumstances.”

Lollie grinned, removed her jacket and handed it to Trenda. “Oh yeah…the last time was a
little
unusual.”

Trenda stood back and read the reaction on their faces. The pheromones in the air were as thick as London fog. She grinned.
Oh, yeah, I'm gonna make this happen.
“You are just in time to have a birthday drink with me and Walter.”

Lollie wiggled her toes in the thick, champagne-colored carpet and looked from Walter to Trenda. “Are you guys
sure
I'm not interrupting?”

Trenda stepped out of her black pumps, bent over and picked them up. “Girl, please. Quit all that drama and sit down somewhere.” She looked at Walter. “Do you mind if she has a drink with us?”

He was already getting a third shot glass out for Lollie. He smiled as he poured a dose of Patron into it. “I would be hurt if she didn't.”

Trenda carried her shoes over to the sofa, put them under the coffee table, sauntered over to Walter and picked up two of the full shot glasses. “Bring the bottle in here, sweetie.”

Lollie shook her head, laughed and made the sign of a cross as Walter walked in carrying the half bottle of Patron. “Oh, shit!” She looked at Trenda. “Now you
know
I don't need to drink any of that goddamn tequila.”

Trenda grinned, removed her hoop earrings and placed them on top of the TV cabinet. “You need to quit it; you handled that shit like a pro.”

Walter walked over, stood between the women and handed each a glass before picking up his own. “Join me in a birthday toast, ladies.” They held their glasses in position. “To new friends and new memories…” They clinked glasses and tossed back their alcohol.

Trenda put her empty glass on the coffee table. “You guys sit down while I turn on some music.” She picked up the TV remote, turned on the television and turned to the cable service's music channels. As she scanned the music they had to offer, Lollie and Walter struck up a conversation about how the club scene had changed over the past few years. Trenda found the classic hip-hop and R&B station and settled on that. She looked at her guests and grinned.
They sure look mighty cozy with each other.
She adjusted her dress's halter-top, sat down next to Walter and held up her empty glass. “Hey, birthday boy, I'm a lil' dry over here.”